In the Life Afterword: A Supernatural The Long Night Sequel

Issue #50: Cursed Things [Part One]....a Supernatural TLN Sequel

 

I looked next to it and found a black waterproof coat with a fluffy hood. That would keep me warm! I grabbed it and looked at the price tag. “Well, at least these aren’t too pricey.” I admitted, “Though honestly its so cold outside  I think I’d buy it anyways.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Breanna laughed, picking out a coat her size.

***

Dean rested his arms up against a black Camaro, a new car that they had “borrowed,” from someone. Isis wandered around next to him, her soft brown eyes watching him with curiosity as he ranted on the phone, eventually making it out to a wooden deck.

He began to pace around in his thin dark blue coat, trying to keep warm. He would have had his other, if he hadn’t given it to Hope.

He sighed, Frank had nothing on Dick Roman, the Leviathan who killed Bobby. The only thing Dick Roman seems to be doing is funding an archaeological dig, and funding some other crap. He had to give it to Frank though, he was dedicated, even though he pretended not to be.

“You know, I could be in Tromso right now. Zero Leviathan activity in Tromso” Tromso was safe, Frank ranted on the cell phone, adjusting his dark red, almost brown horn rimmed glasses.

Dean raised his eyebrows, “Where the hell is Tromso?”

“Norway you moron,” Frank grunted. Dean was tempted to throw his phone in irritation. Franks voice went dark, “By the way, they opened up another Biggerson in Butte.”

“Yeah—well we’re not in Montana.”

“Oh well, you know where Butte is, that’s encouraging.” He replied, sipping his coffee, in his mess of a trailer. “So where are you?”

“In Oregon.”

“Nope, I got nothing in Oregon.”

“Wiconsin Frank?” Had anything been going on there lately?

“What about Wisconsin?”

“The coordinates—Bobby’s coordinates.”

“Oh right!” Frank said then replied,  “Yeah, no. I got nothing. No activity.” He replied unencouragingly

“Well work on it!”

“Hey! When did you become the boss of me!?” Frank snapped, “You don’t like what I’m doing you can stick it right up your Montana!”

“All right, all right take it easy Frank.” The guy needed to calm down.

“Oh and another thing—” Frank hit a button, disconnecting the line.

 

“Frank! Hello?” He turned with his back to the wind, getting frustrated and flipping his phone shut. Isis looked up at Dean and wagged her tail happily, and Dean turned away, wondering the last time Hope fed her dog. He didn’t want to be on that mutts begging list when she got hungry.

Sam walked up to Dean, wearing a light tan soft leather coat, carrying in each arm a coffee and newspaper. Hope and Breanna walked alongside him, each now dressed for the weather at hand.

***

(HOPE'S P.O.V)

***

Isis panted and ran up to me, I knelt down in the snow and scratched Isis on the head, feeding her half a bagel. She munched on it happily and began weaving between my legs like a 50 pound cat. Between her and the ice, it was a miracle I didn’t fall on my ass.

“That crazy son of a bitch.” Dean ranted. I tossed him his coat I had swiped from it. He took it gratefully and put it on.

“Who Frank?”

“You know, having a cranky total paranoid as your go-to-guy. Its—its—I don’t know what it is.”

I refained from telling him that it was like having Bobby around. I knew that it was still hard for him to talk about it. Dean’s only goal in life seemed to be hunt down the Leviathans, especially the jerk that killed Bobby. I couldn’t blame him for that. In fact, if I got a chance to kill the Leviathan that did Bobby in, it wouldn’t be soon enough. Even now, when my stitches still ached I was ready to fight.

Dean eyed Sam’s coffee. “What are you going for the guiness record for caffience consumption—its like your fix this morning.”

 

“Yea well,” Sam looked at the ground. “Everytime I close my eyes Lucifer is yelling into my head. Its like I let him in once, now I cant get rid of him.”

 

I  looked at him sadly, Sam hadn’t been getting any sleep. At least he was finally addressing the issue that he had been hallucinating. That’s better than denying it to everyone.

“You know he’s not actually….”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, no. I know. Uh, try telling that to the volume control inside my brain.”

 

“Did you try the hand thing?” Dean asked, and that was because the pain in his hand from before would remind him what was real or not. I looked at his scarred, but healed hand, knowing that his hand wouldn’t do much good if his hand was healed. The only problem was, nobody particularly wanted to recut Sam’s hand so he’d have something to remember what was real or not. You’d think that there could be something else that would work on him. I thought sadly.

“Yea,” Sam replied bluntly. Of course he tried it Dean. I shook my head, that’s the only thing he had that worked.

 

I knew if the daemon’s voice went rampaging inside my head twenty four seven I would be going nuts, even though she is actually a nice voice to hear once in a while, she rarely has anything to say.

“Anyway,” Sam said trying to change subjects, he held out the newspaper Breanna had found earlier. “Check it out, They’re saying it’s drugs, but read between the lines.”

“Sounds like she danced her own feet off.” Breanna shuddered.  “But she literally  ‘danced her feet off.’ Either way I read it and thought it might be fun to check out.”

“Dancers?” Dean asked, reading through the article, “They are toe shoes full of crazy.” He grinned.

“How would you know.” I replied bluntly.

“Ugh you know, in movies and stuff…I saw Black Swan, twice. Did you ever see it?” Dean asked.

“Nope. I read the title and thought it was a chick flick.” I answered, making Dean turn red. “Didn’t seem like my kind of thing.”

Sam chuckled and added, “The place where the ballerina got killed is only a couple hours away in Portland.”

“Yea, dancers why not!?” Dean replied and I shot him a look. He coughed awkwardly. “I mean uh, lets go.”

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